Reality
by YourTruly-Ice
Summary: A sad story about Iceland. This is kinda to balance out killing off Norway in my last story. ' Don't read if you aren't good with sad things or if you're an avid fan of Denmark.


NOTE: Well the way I wrote this story is a bit confusing. Sorry about that. ^^' This is just a little thing I wrote in my spare time. Please read, rate and enjoy~ END NOTE

"Bitterly he weeps at night, tears are upon his cheeks. Among all his lovers there is none to comfort him. All his friends have betrayed him; they have become his enemies.

This is why I weep and my eyes overflow with tears. No one is near to comfort me. No one to restore my spirit. My children are destitute because the enemy has prevailed.

Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Look around and see. Is any suffering like my suffering that was inflicted on me, that the One brought on me, in the day of his fierce anger?"

Lamentations (1:16, 1:2, 1:12)

Too long… To long has he sat there doing the same paperwork everyday. Too long has he looked out the window at that same sunset everyday regretting that another day has went by without anything. Too long has he cried himself to sleep.

I find it quite true that the more you learn about a country and it's past the more you either hate them, or pity them. In Iceland's case, personally I pity him. Being brutally torn away from his family by… well his family. I don't think there is anything more tragic than that to happen to such an innocent mind.

Now listen up my dear readers, this story is written by two persons, my partner, a nation which requested to remain anonymous, and me. Just a concerned, friendly neighbor. The first paragraph was written by my nation friend. The second and this paragraph, obviously by myself. That pattern will continue. I will be writing every second paragraph, while my partner every other. He will be narrating the tragic tale of Iceland, while I, commenting and making other clever hints at things left unsaid.

Iceland was truly depressed. Nothing seemed to be real anymore. Not after that day… It seemed like one big, never ending nightmare. Of course, there was a few fleeting moments that reality did hit, and when it did, it bulldozed him into smithereens. It hurt so much to wake up, that he had to resort to alcohol and other unspeakable things like that. I know. I know. Alcohol isn't that bad for some. But Iceland used to be such a good person… He swore he wouldn't… Anyways, when he wasn't being ripped apart by truth, a pattern seemed to set in. He would awake, eat, do paperwork, eat lunch, do more paperwork, eat supper, relax, does some paperwork, get calls from Denmark, unwilling let Denmark come over, and things went out from there unfortunately. It happened nearly everyday. And everyday that passed like that, everyday he didn't speak his mind or follow his heart; it ate away at his ever shrinking humanity.

Well now, I say good job partner. Those were some bitter words. Very hard to describe without ruining the mood. Well let's see… so Iceland was feeling horrible about all the bad stuff in his life and about not standing up against. What is some of that bad stuff? Well the typical teenage drama. Alcohol abuse, drug abuse, abuse from family, overall, a whole lot of abuse. Except Iceland's case was special. It was taken to an extreme. Well, mainly the family abuse. When you think abuse, how bad do you think it gets? Usually, not to bad. At least, not compared to this sad sap. The bruises seemed to stay forever. It was getting harder to explain his trips to the hospital for broken bones, severe concussions, and huge, deep, bloody cuts. Unfortunately, Denmark had good lawyers. There were times when the neighbors where afraid Iceland was dying because of how loud he was screaming, and they lived over a half a kilometer away. About sexual abuse, I will not even dare to go there. The nights Denmark wasn't over keeping him awake, he couldn't sleep anyways. He was too scared of the nightmares that haunted him. To him, it seemed that everyone he once called a friend, had turned into a monster of some horror movie. Yes, I know what some of you are thinking. "It probably wasn't that bad. You're just exaggerated for effect or cause you're biased or something." Tell me good people, why would I exaggerate for effect? It has no potential benefit for me. And as for bias, I have never met Iceland. My partner convinced me to help out with his story. What I say is the bloody, raw truth.

How could his whole family abandon him to themselves? It sounds weird, but it's true. If they truly loved him, they would've saved him from themselves. But no. That isn't the way this story works. Truth hidden in lies. Lies hidden in truth. How is a simple boy supposed to figure out what was the truth? And what was a huge lie? It's impossible. Especially when the biggest lies of all were disguised as once friendly faces. Denmark, Russia, and even I have been hidden in such a dense mist… Iceland couldn't take it anymore… Who could? He couldn't stand up when the enemy were the people he loved, cared for, and were supported by. The enemy had defeated him, and arrogantly pounded him into dust.

Again, very deep words my friend. But please don't be so hard on yourself. You promised him didn't you? You promised you would go on and let the whole thing melt away. Then again, just writing this story kind of defeats the purpose of the promise. Whoops. I'm rambling as usual. Back to the story. The hardest monster in life to recognize and defeat is yourself. The human race is extremely proud. We refuse to accept we are the evil ones. Truth hidden in lies… Lies hidden in truth… That is the meaning of mist. To hide in something like that is unacceptable, unless life forces you to do so. But to use mist to harm others, that is evil indeed. I'm sorry my partner, but I find that very inhumane. Well well. I think if I read anymore of you're horrifyingly depressing stories, I will be depressed myself. It just goes to prove how hard Iceland had it. Dust… Dust made of Ice… That is the coldest, deadliest form, no?

The worst part of Iceland's suffering was that no one noticed. No one saw his eyes scream for help when they looked at him. He tried his best to get someone to notice without him having to say something. For to talk would to go against Denmark. And if he went against that Dane, he would be pummeled. Look around readers. Do you know anyone that has it this rough? If you do, don't abandon them. If you do, you'll end up like… Iceland was incredibly strong despite being tortured so horrendously. Maybe it was the torture itself that made him strong. I will never know. But as the friendly neighbor pointed out, we humans are a savage, proud race. When we see someone stand up against with such strength, we eliminate the threat. I can still remember that day… Denmark was furious… No one could stop his rampage. But when he beat down Iceland, Iceland stood back up. Not as a sign of defiance, but because if he didn't, he would've died. But alas, Denmark's rage increased tenfold. And tragedy struck. Before my very eyes… He… He…

It's sad when no one notices someone else's pain. If you're the one hurting, it can make the wound grow deeper which is why Iceland was so strong. His wounds were as deep as Mother Earth herself, yet he forged- no, not forged. More like stumbled on. Ah yes. Now we are on the reason my friend is writing this story. It was a fairly sunny day. Not a cloud in sight. A very good day to watch the birds in peace. But it completely contradicted the horrors that were to come. Denmark was on another rampage for only God knows why. He was with the Nordic nations and screaming his head off at them. He took a mighty swing at Norway, but Iceland took the hit. It sent him flying. Denmark calmed slightly. I can still remember that sickly sneer on his face. But then Iceland stood up. Denmark's eyes were hotter than fire. He came at Iceland with a rage so fierce; it seemed the trees themselves were trembling. The knife hit Iceland in the neck, and it was over.

What's this? Oh my… Not good indeed. My little nation friend has seem to run off. He still hasn't gotten over Iceland's death. He promised Iceland he would, but promises are made to be broken. Well it seems I have to go find Norway before I have to funerals to arrange. Oops. I wasn't supposed to tell you it was him. Oh well. What is done is done. Who am I you ask? As you may have noticed, I'm not a friendly neighbor. Indeed, I am a sadistic savage. Some call me a demon. Some even go as far to call me death. But for you good people, you can call me Reality.


End file.
